Pas de Trois
by Nommy and the Four Food Groups
Summary: When Princess Elizaveta went hunting for her last day of freedom, she never expected to stay out all night.  She also didn't expect to become wrapped up in a curse.  Austria/Prussia/Hungary Swan Lake!AU.
1. Act I

_an:  
So I decided to write yet _another_ fic that has fairy tale premises.  
This is swan lake!Austria/Prussia/Hungary. More about it at the end._

* * *

Elizaveta made her way through the winding forest, her eyes darting back and forth like those of an experienced hunter. A new crossbow was loaded, but pointed downwards towards the ground. Each step she took was measured and silent - her aptitude was prevalent simply by how she moved.  
It was her last day of freedom, something that she loathed to even think about. Today was her birthday (though it sure didn't _feel_ like it was her birthday) - she was twenty-one years old as of now, which meant that she had to marry as soon as possible. Her parents decided that tomorrow was as good a day as any.

Ugh. Elizaveta pushed a branch out of the way. She wasn't looking forward to this whole "ball" thing; she'd always been more interested in decidedly more masculine things than other girls typically were. As a result, she disliked dancing (though she supposed she was a good dancer). She scowled irritably, remembered not to make noise, then continued on her way.  
She'd seen a flock of swans pass overhead the castle, so she had assumed that today would be good hunting in the forest. Unfortunately, no bodies of water were to be found, even in places where she could have sworn had been before. It was approaching dusk - the last few hours of freedom - and she still hadn't gotten one kill. How was she supposed to break in her new crossbow if nothing worth killing was in the vicinity...?

Ah, the new crossbow. The one present she got that she actually fancied (others had been gowns, jewelry, and other such nonsense) - it was expertly made and pleasant to the eye simultaneously. Her father had sneaked it to her, not letting her mother catch that she had it. He had said that, although she would be expected to act like a woman around her future husband, she could act like herself whenever she felt the need to. She smiled and gripped it tighter, already attached to it.

Thinking back on it, it was hard to believe that today had been one day. This morning she'd been pulled out of bed and into the town's streets, waiting for her potential suitors to arrive. In the meantime, townspeople had flocked around their young princess, congratulating her on another year and wishing her many more. There had been toasts and dancing in the street - everyone had tried to get Elizaveta to dance but she had shaken her head every time someone asked. Of course, when the nobles had arrived in their silver covered carriages, she _had_ to dance (it was kinda _expected)_ but she did that as begrudgingly as possible. Once every potential husband had swirled around with her a few times and stepped on her toes (it seemed as though they learned to dance a week ago - all they did were bland "ballroom style" dances - not the more elegant pointe dances that her kingdom normally prefered), she had broken away from the crowd, ditched her birthday gown in favour of trousers and a blouse, and made her way to the forest. It was much quieter, but she'd been out for hours and hadn't any luck with the game in the area.

She sighed and sat down, taking off her boots. Elizaveta's feet were cut and bruised - typical for a pointe dancer - but they didn't hurt too often. For whatever reason, the surrounding area was nerve-wrackingly uncomfortable - the mist was starting to creep around the trees and calls of animals were present; a good sign, yes, but she this told her that she needed a quick rest.  
After rubbing her calloused feet, she put her boots back on and continued on her wa-

Wait. _Mist._  
Surely a body of water was around then, right? The hunter crept through the trees, being as silent as she was able, and soon caught a faint shimmer in the corner of her eye. The last rays of sunlight tickled the otherwise placid surface of a gorgeous lake, the swans living on it were still.

Interesting, just a few ancestors away from being the proverbial sitting duck. Elizaveta watched silently, scoping out her potential kills. These swans, she saw, were unlike any other - the feathers on them were _too_ white and the center swan was wearing a crown.  
Not something you saw every day, Elizaveta supposed, but she couldn't act surprised about it now. She had just found her new trophies, hadn't she? She smirked and cocked her weapon, trying to aim for the crowned swan in the center. It didn't occur to Elizaveta how odd it was to see many swans on one lake, how odd it was to see different species of swan in one area (according to her expert eyes, the one with the crown was a mute swan), how odd that as night passed over the lake the feathers of the swan began to melt off...

Just as she had a clear shot, a brilliant burst of light encompassed the entire lake, nearly blinding the onlooking hunter. She shut her eyes and turned away, seeing bright starbursts of orange behind her eyes from the light.  
When she opened them, all the swans had disappeared, momentarily making Elizaveta upset, but when she saw what had _replaced_ them, she nearly yelped.

Standing gracefully in the center of the lake was a beautiful man, his chestnut hair falling around his face messily. Feathers clung to his regal clothing, the crown balanced on his head precariously. His gaze fell to Elizaveta's direction, but he did nothing else to acknowledge that he knew of her existence.

As if walking on the water, the swan-man slid one leg in front of the other purposefully, his arms outstretched. When he placed his feet, they pointed to the sides like those of a dancer. As he stepped out of the water (his trousers and shoes not appearing damp in the slightest), he slowly rolled onto his toes (he was dancing pointe, Elizaveta realized, how... _odd_ for a man) and brought his hands over his head, preparing to dance.  
Elizaveta watched, her eyes following the man. He was much better than she was - his movements were deliberate and slow, following along perfectly with unheard music. He had a great center of balance, shown when he gently lifted one leg up, leaned forward (looking shockingly like a mourning bird), then stood up straight again and began a series of pirouettes, spinning slowly.

He was absolutely mesmerizing, this man. Elizaveta didn't notice how close he was getting to her until he bowed, arm outstretched towards her. While she had been watching, she supposed, she must have walked out to follow his movements better.  
The man didn't move from his position, apparently waiting for something. She clucked her tongue and surveyed the lake quickly. It became apparent that he was _not_ the only swan-person here, many people were scattered around the lake, whispering in hushed tones.

Huh. Then why hadn't this aloof man joined a group of friends? Elizaveta crept forward and tapped the man's shoulder.  
He snapped up out of his position and addressed her with a nod, standing with perfect posture. She was about to ask him about this place or where he learned to dance like that, but a voice came from behind her.

"He won't answer you, y'know."

She whirled around a bit too quickly and came face to face with a white haired man, not nearly as elegant-looking as the one with a crown, but he still carried a certain air about him, one similar to the man with the chocolate-coloured hair. Nonetheless, that was pretty rude no matter _who_ you were, something Elizaveta wanted to clearly convey.

"Excuse me?" She said, her eyes narrowing. She looked back towards the still-poised man, then turned to the new one. "And just who are you?"

With an amused smirk, the albino started walking circles around the two. Elizaveta noted how the original man seethed at the intruder - the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. Both princess and dancer stared at the white haired man, the latter with a considerably higher dose of animosity.  
It took a long time for him to respond, but it wasn't what Elizaveta had been expecting. "I think _I_ should be asking you that, don't you?" He ventured, his crimson eyes narrowing mischievously. "After all, _you_ are the new one around here, isn't she, Specs?"

Elizaveta looked to the chestnut haired man to see if he responded, which he did. He head lifted up ever so slightly, his gaze fierce. This seemed to be funny to the albino, who tapped "Specs'" nose childishly. He then turned in the likeness of Specs - elegantly, with some flair - and faced Elizaveta, who didn't seem keen to tell him who she was. He began to prod her (quite literally), his fingers digging into her sides. "Yo, don't you have ears? Answer me!"

The princess snorted and turned her nose up, making it hard for them to keep eye contact. "I believe _I_ asked first, didn't I? I'll tell you once you tell me," Elizaveta hissed, not attempting to hide her disdain. There were some sorts of people that just rubbed her the wrong way, and this guy was one of them.

He looked almost sad, false heartbreak oozing off his being. "Aw, if you insist," he whined, his fake tone prevalent. "My name's Gilbert, and this over here's Roderich," Gilbert said, motioning towards the svelte figure to his side. Roderich said nothing, but gave a brief bow. His facial expression wasn't as level as before - his eyebrows knit inward and his mouth was turned into a delicate frown; Elizaveta could gather that these two weren't on such good terms with each other. This led her to wonder, though: why had Gilbert spoken for him and why hadn't Roderich spoken up or explained to her why he was previously a swan? He seemed the type to apologize profusely for stepping on someone's toe (not that Elizaveta thought such an experienced dancer would ever do that); why wouldn't he explain himself if she had obviously seen him as a swan before?

Elizaveta looked over both of the men, curious about them (well, perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. It's not every day where you see a swan transform into a man). She supposed her curiosities would be procrastinated for a little bit longer, just after she introduced herself. She cleared her throat importantly, standing up a little straighter. "Alright then, a promise is a promise," she said, brushing aside a strand of hair. "My name is Elizaveta. I'm... from around here. I was hunting when I found you guys at this lake," she said hesitantly, not wanting to disclose her social class - if these two were untrustworthy, they might take advantage of her being a princess. She took her father's age old advice ("Stiff upper lip, hold your head high, and don't be afraid to get snappy!"), then fixated a glare onto both of them that she must have inherited from her mother. "Now, do you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?" Elizaveta quipped, her question carrying a significant amount of weight. Gilbert's breath hitched.

"A-ah, well..." Gilbert stuttered, looking at Roderich for support, but then he seemed to remember something and looked back at Elizaveta. "Er... a girl likes hunting?" He finished lamely, obviously looking for a change of topic.  
Elizaveta was _not_ amused.

"How about you try answering the question?" Elizaveta huffed, tapping her foot impatiently. If he didn't spit something out _quickly_ then that tree branch would probably find a new home on his face. Gilbert sensed this mood and began to nervously splutter something.

"Er... uh... I _would_ say talk to Roderich, but he can't talk," Gilbert managed to express, laughing nervously when her face clearly begged the question why. "Aha, I was just gonna say! Hold your horses, lady, let me get my thoughts together and then I'll tell you all about this," he said, pressing his fingers to his temples. Something told Elizaveta that the longer this guy had to think about what he wa3s going to say, the more he would lie about the truth. She cocked her weapon and aimed it at him, daring him to keep silent. Gilbert gave a small hiccup. "Okay Pidge, quit it! I'm normally a peaceful guy," Roderich fixated him with a glare, "but I _can_ be driven to violence!" Gilbert wagged a finger, warning her in a not-too-intimidating manner.  
Elizaveta _glared_.

Gilbert gave her a noncommittal shrug in response. "Fine, Pidge, but don't you dare call me crazy.

"Okay, so once upon a time, this guy, Roderich, was out flitting in a field or some shit, I don't know. About seventy-five years ago, he was heir to the throne of a nearby kingdom. Can't be bothered to learn the name of it," Gilbert started, trying to measure Elizaveta's reaction. A scowl was planted on her face - she was _clearly_ not buying this at all.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that this guy is over seventy-five years old?" She spat, he grip tightening on her crossbow. Gilbert, however, wasn't discouraged.

"Believe it or not, it's the truth. Anyway, back to him in the field.

"Roderich met some sorcerer guy who really didn't like his family. Er, in fact, the sorcerer hated _all_ royal families. This meant that he decided to use his sorcerer powers to make it look like he was gone so his family wouldn't have any heirs, and he did that by relocating him to a lake and turning him into a swan by day, a man by night. You _see,_ before you ask why he did that, spells have certain limitations that demand a way to reverse them, so he had to make it so it was the most unlikely way - him falling in consensual love with another human," he continued, aiming a look at Roderich. "Specs is a sort of cold-hearted ice prince who has never loved before, isn't he?" Gilbert pulled at his cheek, to Roderich's chagrin. "Aww, poor _baby," _he snickered, pulling at his hair. "The sorcerer believed that even Roderich might be able to fall in love if provoked, so he took away his voice. What breaks _that_ spell is the breaking of the _other _spell - the swan one."

Elizaveta blinked, not sure whether to trust this Gilbert on all of this, but she supposed she couldn't argue with what she had seen earlier - Roderich had certainly turned from a swan into a human. She looked to him and, aside from his tousled hair and sour expression, didn't seem to be close to denying the claim. He did seem to hate Gilbert, however, which led Elizaveta to think - if they hated each other so much, then how come Gilbert knew of all this? And what of the other people milling about; were they cursed too? And why was everything broken with true love?

She shook her head, her matted hair swinging by her cheeks. "But what about you? Are you a swan person too?" She asked, her eyes narrowing once more. She found that the more she masked her uncertainty with aggression, the more people would bend to her whims. It seemed to be working impeccably well with Gilbert, who had stolen a glance to Roderich.

Oh, Roderich. He looked as though he would soon punch Gilbert - his expression seemed to be a warning to not do something. Gilbert didn't seem fazed, and instead plowed right through. "Yup, I'm a swan-guy too, 'cos I'm a dashing noble that some jerk sorcerer decided to envy," he said arrogantly, twirling his hair. "Er, everyone else here got turned like that, too," he tacked on to the end, looking at (the now fuming) Roderich again. Briefly, Elizaveta wondered why he was so upset, but figured that any time in Gilbert's presence was pretty unbearable. She could sympathize.

The object of their annoyance seemed to think of something pretty brilliant just at that moment. "Oh, sorry, I forgot a big part of the curse. So long as it exists, the sorcerer does, too. He uses this extra life to try and take down other nobles, one by one," Gilbert said, clapping his hands together.

Elizaveta tried to prevent her face from paling and cleared her throat, not wanting to make her identity known even moreso, now. Er, a change of subject would be nice, yes? "Why do you sound so happy about that?" Elizaveta retorted, her cheeks puffed out.

Gilbert looked like he needed a sudden change of subject, too. "Huh? No reason - you wouldn't understand, Simpleton," he said, sticking his tongue out like a kid. "Anyway, you seem to like dancing, right? Me and Specs over there can dance really well." Gilbert motioned to the taciturn man next to him. The albino seemed to be pleased, and Elizaveta knew why: he had found a _better_ change of subject than the one he had before. She tried to deny that she wanted to see, but found herself nodding slightly.

"Then will you dance for me?" Elizaveta said, a tad testily. Keep on the offense, keep your weapon close - that's all she could do for now. Gilbert smirked.

"As you wish, Pidge."

Gilbert was a fast dancer, a direct contrast to that of Roderich. Additionally, he seemed incapable of staying on his toes for the amount of time Roderich could, and stuck to demi pointe instead. Elizaveta didn't mind - such was how men usually danced (Roderich was an odd exception). This being how they could dance, Gilbert took Roderich's hand gently, making the dark-haired man's face turn into one of shock. As quickly as it had changed, he got over it and assumed a dancing position.  
Something seemed to course through both of them, and spurred them to dance. Whatever it was, it made it look as though they were moving to unheard music, both fitting the imaginary rhythm in a synchronized manner.

At first, Elizaveta thought that the differing dance styles would be too much - the two men were much too different, like sun and moon, fire and ice, yes and no, goodbye and hello - but they melded into a rather interesting pas de deux, the contrasting dancers looking strangely _right_ with each other. Gilbert preferred to draw attention to himself, posing with sporadic hops onto his toes. Roderich was more gentle, keeping to himself and doing slow turns, seeming not to even notice Gilbert's presence. Roderich gave a fleeting look behind him, and deliberately seemed to float over to him. He then bent a leg and stared up at him, to which they began to actually dance together.

Elizaveta was enraptured - though it was obvious that the two _still_ had a strained relationship. They refused to get really close to each other (well, _Roderich_ was the hesitant party) and embraces would be fleeting.  
She found herself disappointed for whatever reason (maybe it was because more passionate dances just looked better, or maybe it was because Roderich would look so much better if he were in a dress- what was she thinking?), but still found the dance itself beautiful.

Eventually the two parted and were back in front of Elizaveta - Gilbert was panting slighty, Roderich was placid as ever. The moon was starting to sink in the background, but still tossed shadows over the trees. Light from the lake reflected off of it and onto the two men, making them appear angelic.  
Elizaveta had to admit that there was something... _intoxicating_ about the two of them. Her breath caught in her throat as Roderich extended a hand towards her, and she realized that he was asking her to dance.

Oh, she _wanted _to, she wanted to so badly. But, she rationalized, her parents wouldn't be pleased if they found out she'd been dancing with a strange man in the forest. She didn't particularly care, but she figured that she may as well follow through on their wishes.  
But wait, there was a way where she _could_ dance with them, wasn't there?

She touched his arm, repressing a smirk when she spotted Roderich growing flustered. He was _really_ sort of cute, in an overly effeminate sort of way. She briefly wondered if he baked as well, but decided not to think about that any longer. No need to demean him even further, even in her mind.  
"I-I... I can't, not now. I _am_ having a ball tomorrow night though, to decide who marries me," Elizaveta said, stroking his face with her fingers. "Maybe you could come?"

Roderich's happiness was palpable, his eyes shining. He nodded towards the princess, and then bowed to her. She turned to leave, but Roderich grabbed her hand, a question in his gaze. She thought that it would be hard to figure out, but something seemed to speak to her... not _words_, but...

Music. Through Roderich, she could hear a cacophony of notes, not seeming to follow any sort of order at all. It confused her, but she understood what he was asking. "I live in the castle, beyond this lake. There's a path that leads out of the forest and to my house - you can't miss it," Elizaveta found herself saying. Instantly, the notes aligned and Roderich's expression became neutral again. He backed away, right into Gilbert.

_Someone_ looked annoyed.

"How come I don't get to go, Pidge? What's up with that?" Gilbert pouted, pushing Roderich out of the way. Elizaveta snorted.

"Something tells me you wouldn't behave yourself. Go off and play in a ditch," she said, then turned away from the two. By this point, the moon was gone. Any minute now, daytime would come and Roderich and Gilbert would become swans again, doomed until Roderich fell in love.  
Elizaveta began tromping her way back home. That could be remedied quickly, no? She smirked and pushed aside branches, trying to find the path.

* * *

After she left the lake, the sun peeked above the horizon. In a bright flash of light, Roderich became shrouded in a cloak of magic, and then, in a puff of feathers, transformed into a beautiful swan. After looking around at his subjects, he paddled off into the water, without Gilbert.  
The albino had vanished without a trace, leaving no evidence of his existence.

One by one, the noblemen and women of the lake transformed, mini explosions of light dotting all over the lake front. The swans then took to the lake as well, awaiting when they could walk as humans again. Silence then settled on the lake like a blanket, enveloping the swans with a hush.

Morning had arrived.

* * *

_an:_

_And that's chapter one! There are a few problems that I've run across with this already, most of it stemming from my limited knowledge of ballet and struggle to put it all in layman's terms. ;;  
I took dance for two years, but that's not nearly as advanced as the characters in this story are. I've done research and watched countless ballet performances (I've even watched Princess Tutu ;;) to get a feel for this all. Originally, I was going to center this all around music (as I've played many of Tchaikovsky's pieces and other such prestigious pieces of musical literature), but music became hard for me to describe in words._

_If you have _any_ dance experience at _all_, I'd love to hear what you have to say about anything. I've skimped out on description of dances because I'm afraid of describing something poorly. Any stories or advice that you might share with me are appreciated._

_Constructive critcism is, as always, loved._

_If you want to see something happen in the story, please let me know! It won't be in there guaranteed (as most of the plot is already in my head already), but I'd like to try and make this have more events that go on than what I already have._

_Thank you so much for reading! I truly appreciate it._

_-Sweet_

_mini glossary in layman's terms:  
pointe - dancing 'on your toes' - pointe toe shoes make this possible (those are ballet slippers with wood in the toe portions that help keep the dancer on their toes)  
pas de deux - a dance with two people  
__pirouette_ - _a 'ballet twirl.' if you don't know what this looks like, you should _really _look up videos! _


	2. Act II

_AN:/  
The site wasn't letting me update for about two weeks, but better way late than never, right?  
Enjoy~_

* * *

Like fog, silence hung over the clearing, holding the swans in a loose embrace. A small group meandered by the very boundary of the lake, observing the sunrise together. One of the swans, obviously a Trumpeter, honked quietly to the group.  
"Why was Gilbert here? Isn't he-"  
"Shh!" Another interrupted the first. The bird had a monochrome appearance, his black beak marking him as a tundra swan. "Do you _want_ Roderich to get mad at as? You know how much those two hate each other," it said, tossing up a wing. "You don't want him hearing us talking about him, do you?" The tundra swan said, trying to be as quiet as he was able. The trumpeter seemed peeved, his feathers ruffled.  
"Um, if we can't talk about _that_, then what about the girl that was here? She looked like she _totally_ needed a bath, yech," he buzzed, suppressing a hiss when all the swans in the group flared their wings at him.  
"Feliks!"  
"Don't you know that she's gonna _break the spell?_"  
"I thought you had more sense than that! Come on, man!"  
"Didn't you hear what they were talking about?"  
"Y-yeah, you should probably think things through before you say them..."

All the swans conversed as if a mute was stuck in their beaks, each syllable pronounced, hushed, and hard to make out. The swan called Feliks sighed and tried to shoo them away, his eyes shut. "Okay, okay, fine! I'm _sorry_, okay? Don't get on my case like that, it's really not fair at all," he pouted, then retreated back to the social circle. "But if that's the case, I really can't wait 'til I get back home. I mean, it's been two years... I think - my parents _must_ be worried about me, yeah?"

The swan's conversation became reminiscent of a bass line - present, but not drawing attention away from the atmosphere - as they chattered on about what they would do when they got back. Roderich, poised at the center of the lake, stirred from his signature position and paddled his way towards them, listening to their wishes. Feliks wanted to see his family once more, Toris was going to pursue his childhood crush, Raivis wished to explore the countryside, and Tino couldn't wait until he could finally see his best friend again. Hearing them all sound so excited - in a way that they hadn't sounded in years - made Roderich's heart burst, knowing that he'd be able to truly help them return to their lives. Perhaps they could pretend as though none of this had ever happened - in any case, they'd be laughing about this in a few hours time.

Roderich retreated back into his solitude, unable to believe that this nightmare would soon be over. _He_ wouldn't be able to return to his daily routine, but he didn't suppose it mattered so much. In any case, he'd be well taken care of - with a wife who seemed to like him, at least. _That_ was actually very reassuring.  
However, he hadn't the faintest as to why Gilbert had shown up. Upon thinking about Gilbert, Roderich ducked his head underneath the surface of the lake. Why had he insisted on lying to the girl that came here? There wasn't any purpose to it, was there? Roderich allowed the water to hold him for a fleeting moment, then picked his form back up, refreshed. He supposed Gilbert's presence was inconsequential - he always liked showing up whenever he wasn't wanted, didn't he? The swan tried to push such thoughts to the back of his mind - he was waltzing right into an unknown future, yes, but he was finally going to be freed from his imprisonment. The swan shook his wings, sprinkling water droplets over the lake's surface. The tips of his wings caused ripples to spread across the water, his wings just scratching the top of the lake. The prince could scarcely believe that he would be released from his nightmarish form in less than a day - after the seemingly endless years that he had been this odd, transforming creature. Walking as a man again, speaking again, making music that could be surely be heard rather than buried inside of him - all of normal life's luxuries that had been lost to him now were almost in his grasp. Like the sweetest fruit at the top of a tree, Roderich's freedom had always been coveted, but always just out of reach. Now, the fruit seemed to be falling right into his waiting hands.

As the prince spread his wings and took off from the lake to the sea of clouds above, he never once considered that the fruit may be rotten by the time it got to him. No, lost in his state of blissful contentment, Roderich was happy to dart in and out of the clouds, awaiting dusk more fervently than he ever had before.

* * *

Gilbert raced through the thick foliage, maneuvering between clumps of bushes and trees with purpose. His lanky figure didn't exactly allow him to slip by unscathed - no, Gilbert's face was scratched from low-hanging branches - but he wasn't to be deterred. The albino seemed to know exactly what he was doing, despite his appearance. Wantonly, the man pushed away weak branches, snapping them in the process, and eventually fought his way to a negligible, tiny clearing. Only a trickle of sunlight spilled its way onto the forest floor, which a patch of small flowers hungrily took advantage of. Gilbert stood in the center of them, flattening a few in the process. Slowly, he rotated his head to the side and opened his eyes, shimmering crimson in the sparse light. In an almost painful fashion, he wrapped his leg around in front of his body, then raised his arms to the sky. Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his toes, his worn boots squeaking in protest. Almost inaudibly, he called for someone - "_Arthur,_" - and then waited a few painstaking moments. Just as it seemed nothing would happen after all, the flowers began to twist and writhe from underneath the albino's feet. Sprouts of ivy shot up into the air, and eventually came from underneath Gilbert's body. The man was rapidly lifted into the air, maintaining his pose all the while.

When the flowers stopped their ascent and the plants calmed, Gilbert stepped onto a tiny platform that the makeshift elevator had led him to. There was a tiny hole in the ground, one that would only just allow a person to squeeze into. Gilbert knew the procedure, and jumped down it without hesitation.  
Now, one may think twice before jumping into a hole that they found on a piece of land floating in midair. Perhaps one could fall through and hit the ground, right?  
Wrong.

Gilbert was familiar with magic, so he didn't need to question how the hole was impossibly long and how the cavern that he was deposited into was impossibly vast. The flames on candles danced as Gilbert passed by them; his footsteps echoed on the polished floor. At the end of the cavern, he found a hooded figure.  
A smirk, and then Gilbert tapped his shoulder.  
"Arthur."  
One word, that's all that was spoken. The figure turned and stood, regarding the visitor amiably. Arthur remove the cloak he previously had donned, then looked Gilbert in the eye. Though the albino looked collected (as usual), a faint tremor rippled through his features. He knew something was terribly wrong.

"What news, Gilbert?" Arthur asked, his accent obscuring his voice. His large eyebrows knit at the middle, holding thousands of questions that he expected answers to. Gilbert raised his hands and ducked his head in resignation.

"Unfortunately, it seems our little prince isn't so loveless after all," he said, flicking a stray strand of hair out of his face. Lazily, he draped an arm around Arthur, letting it sink in. "If all goes according to his plan, he'll have this spell broken by tonight, man," a shrug. "If I were you, I'd think of something fast or we're gonna kiss our immortality goodbye."  
To say Arthur was upset would be a gross understatement - he'd momentarily lost control of his magic and now a few candles were shivering in the air behind Gilbert. The albino shifted forward nervously. "Look, getting mad about it isn't gonna do anything. We need to think of something, and _fast._"

Arthur had resorted to massaging his temples, but looked up at Gilbert when he remembered that he had to somehow prevent Roderich from getting someone to confess their love to him. "What were the limitations I put on that spell...? Hmm..." Arthur considered, tapping his chin with a gloved hand. "Ah, didn't I say that if someone who was to confess their love for him confessed to someone else, his spell would never be broken?" He looked to Gilbert for approval, who nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's what you said," Gilbert nodded. "Do you want the details? He's planning on marrying this princess-chick today or tomorrow or something like that, and there's a ball or something tonight," Gilbert recalled, thinking back to the early morning. His memory seemed foggy, as if there was a barrier preventing him from seeing the events clearly. His face contracted, wrinkled in concentration. He couldn't deny that dancing with Roderich had left his mind fuddled - that he _wished_ that the more reserved man would reach out a bit more, but he supposed he shouldn't be thinking about that anyway. "Roderich's going to be there. He and the girl - Elizaveta, I think - are going to dance at the ball. She wants to marry him," Gilbert finished, trying not to make any sort of overly positive or negative expression.

"Hmm," Arthur mused, shutting his eyes. "Then I think I would need to disguise someone as Roderich, wouldn't I? And what better candidate..." his eyes opened and flitted around the cavern, eventually settling on his companion. "...than you, Gilbert?" Arthur finished, his mouth curving into a smile. Gilbert's breath hitched.

Was Arthur seriously considering using him, Gilbert, to betray Roderich? Sure, Gilbert's existence relied on the curse as much as Arthur's, and yes, he _did_ like annoying Roderich...  
But completely dooming him to the curse for eternity? The albino gulped, thinking of Roderich's once expressive singing voice, his once carefree expression. He thought about how he had told Arthur about his existence, and how they had both agreed to curse him for their immortality. He suppressed a shudder, then nodded to Arthur. He couldn't go against him _now_, but maybe...  
"Yeah, that makes sense," Gilbert said, waving one of his hands. "But if he can't ever break it, then can't you let him talk again? I mean, we'd still be safe and it wouldn't be as bad for him, right?" Gilbert asked, trying not to sound too desperate. The last thing he needed was Arthur bugging him about his sudden display of altruism.

Luckily, Arthur seemed to be preoccupied. His books were all open on the table, his eyes scouring the pages. "Hm? Well, that would be a pain for me to break, as _that_ spell is only broken when the original one is," Arthur said, tapping his chin once more, "but I suppose I'd be a failure of a sorcerer if I couldn't reverse my own spells. I'll try my best, alright?" Arthur looked to Gilbert, who had relief written all over his face.

"Sounds good to me! Now, let's just get this spell over with, shall we?"

* * *

Once Elizaveta had gotten home, she had been immediately fussed over. Her maids had let out gentle "where have you been"'s and "let's get you washed up, now"'s at every interval, but the princess didn't mind so much now. She was all clean, left alone, and safe at home, where she could think properly about what had happened tonight. Had she confided in one of her maids, they would have said that she was simply nervous about the ball tomorrow. They probably would have remarked that it was hard to find the "right one," but hopefully she would find her Prince Charming tomorrow. Elizaveta rolled her eyes. Her maids were much too optimistic, much too chipper. They probably envied the princess for being so privileged.  
Not that she could deny how lucky she was - certainly not. Her baths were always heated and she always used the sweetest-smelling soaps available. Her room was lush, the carpets thick, and the windows huge. The princess sighed in contentment as she braced herself against her bed's backboard. When it came to the things she owned, life was very comfortable.

...Perhaps a little _too_ comfortable, even. Elizaveta liked spending nights in the forest, chatting with strangers, and fighting aspiring warriors. All of it was fun and easy for her, but apparently her skills weren't appreciated. A lady shouldn't behave like that, so said her mother.  
The princess blew a strand of hair out of her face. Had she been a rash person, she would have wished not to be a noble, but she supposed that she was too well taken care of to complain. Even though her life was stuffy, invasive, and controlled, she had a steady supply of food and a comfortable place to live. Maids attended her every desire. She wasn't an ungrateful person by any stretch, so sacrificing freedom for such luxuries wasn't _that_ big of an issue.

But tonight, she had met two men who were truly free - regardless that they were swans by morning time. They could do whatever they wanted; they had no rules, no people to bend to, nothing like that. She wasn't really jealous so much as she was intrigued - she could hardly imagine such freedom - soaring through the air in the daytime, exploring the villages by night. Elizaveta smiled and hugged her pillow. Perhaps, when she married Roderich and when she inherited the throne, he would let Elizaveta do the ruling for them. He seemed to be pretty submissive, she figured; she doubted that he would have any qualms to allowing his wife to rule.

Oh, and _Roderich_. The princess turned her gaze outside her window, where she could see a dapple of morning sun peak from over some far-off hills. She'd never seen anyone so graceful, so fluid in their movement. She longed to hear his voice - to hear him make actual music and not just... well.

Whatever he had done before. She didn't know how, but Roderich seemed to be able to be able to use music as a form of communication - unheard music, that is. Everything about him was so _magical,_ so... unreal.  
Part of her questioned whether he could possibly be real or not - curses and magic? Really now?  
But... something told her that Roderich couldn't possibly have been her mind's creation. Though the entire situation seemed dreamlike now, it had been so tangible before. Something like that couldn't have been a dream, simply _couldn't_ have been.

The princess shook her head violently and retreated under her bedsheets, pulling the blanket up under her nose. It yielded no merit to think herself into a ditch, now, did it? May as well try to get some sleep before her big night.

* * *

Nighttime brought a giant array of bright lights and fanfare. Outside of the polished marble palace, carriages streamed in from all entrances; all forms of nobility were guests at the lavish castle tonight. A large, golden gate separated the king's home from the surrounding common people's living areas. Intricate patterns manifested themselves in the gate, creating a gorgeous, yet sturdy, barrier. Roderich happened to be on the wrong side of it, much to his despair.

Each carriage and pedestrian was stopped and asked for an invitation, one that proved that they should be allowed inside. The king _had_ managed to make a few enemies after all, and no one really wanted any assassination attempts to unfold. Unfortunately, Elizaveta had only given him a verbal invitation, not an actual document. Furthermore, he happened to be _mute_, so he couldn't exactly explain himself. Still worse, this prevented him from explaining to the other nobles why he looked so familiar to them. He _had_ been a highly-respected, much loved prince before his transformation, after all.  
Perhaps the worst thing, however, was the dreadful _pull_ he felt in his chest. Should he wander from his lake prison for too long, _something_ in the spell caused him to return after a while. He could only be away from the lake for a little more time - two hours, at most - and then he would be forced to return. Already, the pain his body was experiencing was steadily spreading. Roderich gritted his teeth and adjusted his crown, attempting not to loose patience with the rakish guard denying him entrance into the ballroom. His stern expression and untrusting eyes regarded Roderich coldly.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're from or what, _prince?_" The guard bit out, tapping Roderich's crown with the butt of his gun. Roderich made a face, but couldn't say anything to the guard. His violet eyes fluttered downward in an almost embarrassed fashion, then he looked upwards, hoping that he may stir _some _sort of recognition in this man...  
Luckily, The guard the guard seemed to see something that he hadn't before. His green eyes narrowed, and then he backed up his train of thought. "Er, sir, are you..." the guard trailed off, and attempted again. "You look awfully familiar," he decided on, trying to search Roderich's face for any sort of confirmation. Roderich gave a small nod, and touched his crown in a deliberate manner. Gingerly, the prince removed it from his head and allowed the guard to look at the gold insignia in the center of it.

The guard pushed a strand of blond hair out of his face, and then carefully studied the picture. His thumb brushed over the picture, the crowned black eagle, the light carving obviously made with much care. The guard looked as through he had seen a ghost, his eyes misty and far away. "...This is the Edelstein seal... how did yo-" When the guard looked up this time, he truly saw the prince for the first time. "Y-you're... but you can't be!"

Roderich slowly nodded and gave the man a pleading look, and then reached out his hand to touch his arm. He couldn't verbally communicate, but he _could _transfer his feelings in music to others through touch. He never heard what they heard, however, so he hoped that the guard was hearing something that would convince him to let him in. The guard had a shocked expression and seemed to freeze still, his hands paralyzed around Roderich's crown. The prince withdrew his touch, and with it, the music, which allowed the guard to move again. He shook his head and handed the crown back.

"I don't even know how someone I heard about from my grandparents could still be alive, but whatever. If you cause any commotion, I'm going to personally escort you out, got that?" He said, opening the gate for him. "You're late, though, so go in quietly."

* * *

While Roderich was stuck outside, the rest of the celebration was going smoothly. Dresses whirled around the dance floor like tops, and couples deftly slid between each other, all possible collisions smoothly avoided. There were only a few people not dancing, one of them being the princess herself. Her makeuped face was resting on her left hand, eyes slowly following the dancers. Though it all was really pretty, it was missing Roderich. All the other suitors were all accounted for (and eager to find out who the lucky guy would be), adjusting their ties and whispering to themselves. They all had heard about the man that she wanted to marry, but all retained some form of hope - for some, this marriage would cement their family's position as a powerful kingdom, obviously something that none were keen on losing. Each man glanced nervously at the entrance door, anticipating when Elizaveta's prince would come and sweep her off her feet. The nobility also held their breath, waiting for Roderich like they were waiting for a sunrise.

Seemingly accompanied by a fanfare, the great ballroom doors burst open with a hefty amount of force. The musicians ceased playing, a few lingering chords splashed across the ballroom in protest. Every dancer, sensing the guest's importance, stopped dancing. Some polite-types stole glances at the figure from behind a well-placed fan or partner, but most people unabashedly stared at him. The magic that he had possessed before had not faded, and instead seemed to manifest and reverberate from his very being. Roderich stood, captivating the public with his mere presence. The light bursting from the room behind him gave him an almost godlike aura. Accompanied with his majestic, blank expression and regal pose, it was obvious who the princess had been waiting for.

The crowd parted before its Moses - Elizaveta - and watched silently as the princess ran to his arms. Her calloused hands, covered by silk gloves, stroked his face gently, a small smile finding its way onto her face. Roderich smiled back and took her hand gently, beckoning for her to dance with him.

After the music started up, the two began a slow dance, the simple steps not accentuating their skill in the least. However, this was all done for sake of tradition - waltzes were the standard dance for noble couples, and their first dance should be no different.  
However, once the music quickened, the two ended their charade and began to express themselves as they had intended in the first place. Roderich extended his hand for Elizaveta and she took it, thus starting their dance.

It was much different than Elizaveta thought it would be, dancing with Roderich. At the lake, his movements had seemed so slow, precise, and fluid. However, and perhaps this was just because she was the one actually dancing with him now, it was almost _rushed_, each spin ended a little too soon, went by a little too quickly. More complex moves were accomplished much faster than Elizaveta could comprehend what Roderich wanted her to do, but the crowd of nobles seemed enchanted. Though it sure _felt_ different, she could conclude that they looked as breathtaking as Roderich and Gilbert had looked on the lake.  
Elizaveta spun until she grew terribly dizzy, until her toes ached with the effort to carry her entire weight. She'd never danced this strenuously before... was Roderich even tired? She looked at him and he seemed perfectly fine. He was obviously sweating, but not to the extent that Elizaveta was. She pet back her swan prince's hair and looked into his eyes, leaning into his strong hold. She had assumed that Roderich's eyes were a brilliant purple from the night before, but the ballroom's soft light showed them to be more of a hazy brown. They were still quite beautiful, she found, but only plays of light would cast the shadows needed to make them violet.  
Maybe he wasn't as magical as she had thought, she began to muse, but quickly shook it off. Roderich was a simply enchanting man with superb dancing skills, even if they made her (quite literally) weak at the knees.

The two spun themselves close by her parents, who silently smiled at them as they danced. Elizaveta broke from Roderich's grasp and, her hand just touching his shoulder, faced the king and queen.

"Mother, Father? This is the man who I want to marry - Roderich," Elizaveta said, and her father raised his hands for decorum. Music, shuffling feet, and chatter all were muted at once. The princess, now that she had the attention of the ball, turned to her to-be-betrothed. "Roderich, I..." she began, not certain if she could just _say_ it, but after a moment she figured it was the best way to go about it. "...I love you, Roderich. You will marry me, won't you?"

The magic words had been spoken.

A surreal mist enveloped Roderich and he took a step back, leaving Elizaveta confused and in a state of shock.  
What was going on...?

Initially, Elizaveta thought he was turning old - perhaps when the curse broke, he aged with it. His skin turned much paler and looked much more worn. His chocolate-brown hair became streaked with grey, and then to a pallid white. She began to get suspicious when he grew more muscular, however, and dull horror began to settle when she spied the crimson eyes peeking from behind the mist.  
Once the transformation was complete, the fog settled around Gilbert's feet in heavy, choking masses, his eyes piercing through the clouds like torches.

From behind the cruel-looking man, the ballroom doors lay ajar. Another man stood in the doorway, his hair falling around his face messily, his glasses slipping off his nose. Roderich, having observed the entire scene, helpless with the pain from being away from the lake too long, let out the first sound he had uttered in nearly a century.  
A strangled cry reverberated harrowingly across the room for what seemed like an eternity - long after the one who had wailed it fled to the woods.

Elizaveta, too stunned to move, helplessly watched her actual, trapped prince escape back to his prison alone, his expression burning itself into her memory.

* * *

_AN:/_

_I finally updated~ yay. ;;  
There's going to be one more chapter, so look forward to it!_

_My beta's away in San Francisco for the time being, so (as always) tell me if anything is really wonky.  
Thank you so much for your reviews! Whenever I got stuck, I would look back to them to keep me writing. C:  
I appreciate all of your story watches and favourites, as well. Thank you so much for reading~!_

_See you again soon~_

_Sweet _


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